


Tentacle Tested, Winchester Approved

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 12:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: This isn't what the anime Dean pretended not to watch in high school promised him.





	Tentacle Tested, Winchester Approved

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://salt_burn_porn.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://salt_burn_porn.livejournal.com/)**salt_burn_porn** challenge, for the prompt _so slippery_.
> 
> I did not realize until this was finished that the last time I wrote for this challenge, it also featured tentacles. I'm so sorry. For what it's worth, that was eight years ago, and I think these tentacles are a lot more fun? :D????
> 
> Oh god. Bye.

The worst part, Dean thinks, is not the tentacles themselves. They're not hard to manage – an ace bandage keeps them tied down easy enough, so he can leave the hotel room when he needs to without getting weird looks (or screams). It's not exactly comfortable, but whatever, he's dealt with worse. So the worst part isn't the tentacles.

The worst part is the strange affinity they seem to have developed for those Dean keeps in close proximity. Namely, his little brother and their wayward angel.

"Dean?" Castiel says. Speak of the devil. (Angel. Whatever.)

Dean grunts from where he's planted himself face-down on the bed. He's not wearing a shirt or the bandage, and he can feel the gentle stir of the air as his new collection of appendages waves and undulates above and around him, pouring out from his spine in a frenetic tangle of long feelers.

"Dean." Castiel sounds a little urgent now, so Dean pries his head up and blinks at the sight of Cas standing next to his bed, one thin tentacle wrapped tightly around his wrist, the dark color of it stark against pale skin as it slithers beneath the sleeve of Castiel's tenchcoat and up his arm.

"For fuck's sake," Dean sighs, because this is not the first time this has happened. He tries to ignore the warmth he can feel radiating from Castiel's skin and down the length of the tentacle as he sits up and tugs at it. It comes free slowly, regretfully loosening its hold on Castiel and curling around Dean's arm instead. "Sorry, man," he offers.

From a safe distance on the other bed, Sam is trying to hide his snickers behind a thick book on witch curses. Dean glares at him, wants to remind him that Sam didn't think it was so funny when it was _him_ getting snared by a too-friendly tentacle yesterday.

He stays quiet though, because it feels safer, all things considered.

"You said your control was getting better," Castiel says. He doesn't sound reproachful, just curious.

Dean shrugs. "Sure, sometimes it's great." He releases a slow breath, focusing, and feels as the writhing mass of tentacles settles around him, quiet and still against the bed. "Sometimes it's complete shit." Especially is he's stupid enough to let himself get distracted.

"Interesting." Cas takes a cautious seat on the edge of the bed, head tilted as he looks at them. "May I?" he asks, and Dean realizes he's holding out a hand towards the closest tentacle to him, a thick one that twitches in anticipation but otherwise stays still. If it were a dog, Dean would pet it and feed it a treat. As it is, he's just waiting for it to start misbehaving again, because after a few days of this, some things are inevitable.

"Uh." Dean shakes his head. "Maybe we could, you know, _not_ do that?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, and he clears his throat. "It's just. I mean, they kinda…" He shrugs, manages a good impression of a wince, trying to imply that they're painful because nothing makes Castiel back of quicker than the thought of hurting Dean. Still, it's a complete lie. The truth is, the fuckers aren't painful, they're _sensitive_. Sam picked one up yesterday to study, poking and prodding and tracing the slick length all the way up to where it grew from Dean's spine, dark flesh fading to familiar pale skin, and every touch was like it was hard-wired to Dean's dick.

Not something he's eager to repeat, thanks.

Castiel raises an eyebrow at Dean, sensing the bald-faced lie because he's an _angel of the lord_ , and Jesus fucking Christ, a man is allowed no privacy these days.

"Fine, whatever," Dean growls, giving in just like Cas probably knew he would all along. "Just. Be careful, okay?"

"Of course," Cas says, like Dean is foolish for thinking he needs to even say such a thing. He doesn't roll his eyes (Cas would never roll his eyes, Dean's not even sure he knows _how_ to roll his eyes), but the implied eyeroll is right there in his voice as he reaches out and slowly lays his hand on the center of Dean's back, where the largest mass of tentacles stems from.

Dean shudders, closing his eyes and swallowing hard as Castiel's gentle fingers trail down. He can feel the way each individual appendage wants to _explode_ into motion, and he keeps them still only by sheer force of will. He glances over to the other bed, sees Sam watching with wide-eyed curiosity. And then his brother shifts, meeting Dean's eyes, and that's the only distraction needed. His focus splits, and the tentacles take their chance.

There's a sound of surprise from Cas, whose arm is instantly taken and wrapped around by three of them, another quickly creeping across his leg, and Dean jumps up from the bed, yanking on the offenders hard enough to hurt and escaping across the room and into the bathroom the moment they come free. The door slams shut behind him and he grips the sink hard enough for his knuckles to turn white as he takes a few unstready breaths.

 _Not okay,_ he thinks fiercely at the frothing mass behind him. _Not fucking okay._

They don't seem inclined to care.

Someone knocks on the door. Dean is willing to bet Sam, because Castiel has yet to master certain social niceties like _knocking_. He chooses not to answer, instead meeting his own eyes in the dirty mirror and then slowly taking in the whole reflection.

It's ridiculous how normal he looks, if you completely disregard the mass of dark feelers surging in a sinuous snarl behind him. He flexes, tightening his shoulder blades, and they flare out behind him, stretching across the bathroom from end to end. They could go further if there was room. While they vary in length and width, and seem able to compress themselves tighter when necessary, most of them can make themselves long enough for all kinds of purposes. Purposes Dean is decidedly not thinking about.

The knock comes again, this time accompanied by Sam's voice. "Dean, I'm coming in."

Dean grits his teeth, bringing the tentacles to bear again, and leaves the bathroom before Sam can make good on his threat, pushing past his bother as fast as possible to avoid letting his new extremities get any ideas.

"Dean, come on," Sam sighs, following behind like the complete idiot he is, and before Dean can tell him not to, he reaches out to grasp Dean's shoulder. There's a miniscule pause, and then, " _Oh._ "

Dean doesn't need to look to see what caused the breathless sound. He can feel the tentacles winding around Sam's wrist, up his arm, around his torso, tugging him closer. "Fuck," he says, succinctly, and he tries, he _really tries_ to get them to let go, but they're apparently through listening to him because even a hard tug does nothing more than bring Sam even closer, jerked forward a step by the tentacle around his waist that refuses to dislodge.

This…might be a problem.

"Um…" Sam tries. Dean looks over his shoulder and it's a mistake, it's _such_ a fucking mistake, because he watches the thick tentacle that darts into Sam's mouth, rendering whatever was supposed to come after _um_ lost. Sam's eyes are wide, and he'd probably be flailing if he were allowed much movement at all. Dean, lost in the devastating heat of Sam's mouth around the tentacle as it plunges deeper and deeper and down his throat, can only gape for long moments before he finally remembers himself and chokes out a desperate, "Cas!"

The angel is suddenly in front of him, sizing up the situation in the irritatingly calm way of his, and he reaches out. He probably intends to use some angel mojo to calm the stupid things, or maybe put Dean to sleep altogether. Unfortunately, they're faster than he is today, and quite possibly impervious to angel juice, since no amount of _touched by an angel_ could get rid of them in the first place.

"Cas, no—" Dean tries, too late. A free tentacle grasps Cas by the wrist, and god, it's strong. It has to be, because Dean can feel Cas fighting the hold, can see the surprise lighting in his eyes when he can't break free. _Fuck,_ Dean thinks, no ideas left on how to get out of this one.

It doesn't help that the more skin his tentacles uncover and slither over, the less sure he is that he _wants_ to get out of it. It's like a drug, every touch, every drag against warm, soft skin.

He watches with something that doesn't seem nearly as much like horror as it maybe should, watches as Cas is quickly held immobile and divested of his trenchcoat. Watches as a long, thin tentacle makes fast work of his tie, his shirt buttons, his belt. Behind him, Dean can hear a similar rustle of Sam's clothing being shed. _Oh, God._

Sam moans, the first sound he's made in a while, and the tentacles holding him drag him a step forward, a step closer to Dean, who feels them bringing Sam's arms up, urging him to take hold of Dean's waist. Sam does so, gripping hard enough to bruise, still mouthing greedily at the tentacle thrusting down his throat.

It's the wrong time to wonder about his little brother's gag reflex (not that there's really a _right_ time for that), but Dean can't help it because if the sensation is that overwhelming with a tentacle, what would _other things_ be like? The thought makes him go hot all over, a strange mix of shame and lust.

Castiel, meanwhile, is quiet, his eyes searching Dean's as he too is brought closer by the tentacle at his back. He's also down to nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and jesus, Dean was not prepared for the sight of an almost-naked angel, especially with what he's sure is an almost-or-fully-naked brother behind him.

"I can't…I can't stop them," he gasps, because he's _tried_ , he really has, all but sobbing with the effort of making them stop, but it's like they can pick up that deep down…

Deep down he doesn't want them to.

Castiel reaches out, taking Dean's hand, and it's only after he does so that Dean realizes there was no tentacle urging him to do so. "Maybe if we…give them what they seem to want?" Castiel suggests, and Dean doesn't miss how careful he is to say _they_ , not _you_ , even though he has to know. He has to.

A fresh wave of humiliation courses through Dean, but he swallows it down. "Sam?" It's barely a whisper, but Sam must hear him, because he answers by trailing his hands over Dean's side and squeezing again, just below his ribs this time, a silent assurance.

 _So we're doing this, then,_ he thinks, and has to smother a hysterical laugh because if he starts, he doesn't think he'll be able to stop. And hell, maybe he'd put up more of a fight, maybe he'd try to knock himself unconscious or cut the damn things off, but he's got a brain full of flashbacks, all the times over the past year they've all been dancing around… _something_ , playing over and over in his head on a loop. It was easier not to put words to whatever it was, and a hell of a lot safer to pretend it away, but it's been there all the same. They're all three of them aware of it, which is now more clear than it's ever been before.

It's easier, after acknowledging the truth of that, to let the tentacles do what they want, and they seem to appreciate the freedom to dedicate their energy to things other than fighting him, because they double their efforts to wrap themselves around both the man behind him and the angel in front. Dean can only stare as they trail in inky tendrils over Castiel's chest, wrap gently around his neck, slither over his shoulders and down again. He feels them doing the same to Sam, who's so close now Dean can feel the heat of him radiating against his own skin. Castiel is watching him intently, eyes dark, but Dean sees the shudder he can't quite seem to suppress, and it's not revulsion. Far from it, by the heated look in those blue eyes.

Castiel's free hand is brought to Dean's belt, and there's a question in his gaze, a question Dean can only answer with a nod as his heart threatens to burst from his chest, it's pounding so hard. Castiel's fingers are deft and sure as they unbuckle the belt, pop the button, and then two small tentacles take over to push Dean's jeans and boxers down, nudging his feet until he steps out of them.

Sam's hands find their way from his sides to his thighs, grazing the curve of his ass, and Dean can't even tell if it's him or the tentacles in charge. Guesses it doesn't matter anymore, except he feels when the tentacle that's been abusing Sam's mouth drops away, feels when Sam uses that newfound freedom to step forward the last bit of remaining distance to press up against Dean, skin to skin, brushing a too-gentle kiss to Dean's shoulder.

"Sammy?" Dean asks. Can't look at his baby brother, so he holds Castiel's gaze instead, because it feels safer, somehow. More so when he sees nothing there but that same steady reassurance.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam says, and god, his voice is _wrecked_ , and it _does things_ to Dean, things his tentacles seem downright gleeful over, all of them squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, for a long moment in which everything else remains almost too still.

And then Castiel gasps, and Dean sees what he was too overwhelmed to sense sooner, the tentacles that curved over him and down his spine are now slipping between his legs, pressing up against the noticeable bulge in his boxer shorts even as one behind him slips _into_ the boxers and down the cleft of his ass.

"Cas?" Sam is grinning, Dean can hear it in his voice, and there's something already glazed in Castiel's eyes when he glances over Dean's shoulder and nods to Sam.

"I think…" He clears his throat, a distinctly unangelic sound. "I think this is an acceptable arrangement," he manages to say, meeting first one brother's eyes and then the other's, and Sam does laugh now, low and gritty, the breath of it ghosting across Dean's ear.

"Agreed," Sam says.

"Do I get a say?" Dean wonders, but it's only for show. He's hella fucking content to be along for the ride here, even if this is _not_ what that anime porn he pretends he didn't watch in high school promised him.

But maybe it's better, he decides, because Sam is gasping himself now, and there's a new kind of warmth from the tentacles that are focused on him. "How's it feel, Sammy?" Dean asks, all but panting the question through the riot of sensation as he feels one slide deep in his brother's ass, then another, too fast but somehow not fast enough. They press in, back and forth together, and then they curl around each other, thickening and ridging, and Sam chokes on a sound that is pure animal.

" _Slippery,_ " he manages to laugh, breathless, his face is buried in Dean's neck. Then he's mouthing licking, biting, suckling kisses there as Dean's tentacles have their way with him, fucking slow and deep. He's pressed too close along Dean's spine for Dean to see, but he feels when one smaller tendril wraps around Sam's cock, feels the tension in his brother's muscles and hears the low moan he lets out, buried in Dean's skin.

Castiel, meanwhile, is pushed forward into Dean's arms, and he holds tightly, face pressed into his chest, wholly unfamiliar with the intrusion he's experiencing (four of them, jesus christ, _four_ , all winding and twisting and undulating inside him, and Dean can't help wondering how much more he could take…wondering if maybe, someday…) The doubled sensations have Dean diamond hard and leaking before he's even been touched, and he presses his aching cock into Castiel's hip, desperate for any friction he can get, even as he tries so damn hard to stay still, to let whatever is happening _keep_ happening.

But that's not enough for his new extremities, because they push at Dean's feet now, forcing him to spread his legs, and god, he's not ready, he's not…but then he's entering _himself_ , and it's not half as weird as it should be, two thin tentacles spreading him, stretching him, and then the one around Sam's dick lines his brother up in just the right way…

Sam cries out while shoving himself forward, no help needed there, and then he's suddenly _in_ , and Dean realizes the tentacle is still around him, making him even thicker, but also making the slide easier, somehow, _god_ , it's so big, and he's vaguely aware through the haze of sex that this should not feel as good as it does, should not be as easy as it is…

"Dean…I…" Castiel's fingers scrabble at Dean's chest, and he raises his face to meet Dean's eyes, his own filled with too many things Dean can't put a name to. Dean bends down, _needs_ to kiss him, needs to taste Castiel in this moment.

He isn't prepared for the tentacle that brings them together, wrapping double around both their hard lengths, using the momentum of the ones that are fucking hard into Castiel to shove him forward into Dean, and Dean backward into Sam. Rhythm found, they stay like that for a mini eternity, clutching each other through the gasps, the sobs, the devastating spill of words none of them will remember later.

It's Sam who cries out first, spilling warm and wet inside Dean with no warning, and even when he pulls out with a strangled sob and presses his damp forehead against Dean's shoulder, the tentacle stays behind, and keeps fucking Dean through the mess, finding that sweet spot that lights stars behind Dean's eyelids. He holds onto Cas because he needs to hold onto _something_ , but then he reaches back and takes one of Sam's hands, holding tightly as Cas yells with the force of his own release. And then it's no effort at all, coated in slick in front and behind, fucking into one tentacle and being fucked by another, and Dean comes harder than he ever has in his life, comes and comes and _keeps_ coming, wonders through the spurts if this is a side-effect of having the tentacles because it can't possibly be normal to feel _this_ good for _this_ long.

They're all lowered to the ground after that, clutching at each other in a graceless heap, and finally Dean can take the time to turn toward Sam, allow Sam to claim his mouth in a deep, wet, filthy kiss that almost makes him wish the tentacles gave him super recovery as well.

"You know," Sam says, petting the tentacles draped around him and across his lap and sending happy shivers through Dean, "I know we've been pretty focused on finding a way to get rid of this curse, but, um." He flushes when Dean raises an eyebrow at him, and Castiel's laughter rumbles out from behind him.

"They _are_ interesting to study, aren't they?" His blue eyes have a twinkle Dean's never seen before, and his small smile, while only the latest in a long list of things that have added to his humanity over the years, is one Dean thinks he might like best.

If he were a better person, Dean would think this whole thing was wrong on a hundred different levels. The tentacles gave them the excuse, but really, it was all him.

"All _us_ ," Castiel says, soft so only Dean can hear. Or so he thinks until Sam draped himself over Dean's chest with a smirk and says, "And as fun as they are, it's not like we'd need the tentacles to do it again."

Dean remembers all at once that he is _not_ a better person, and yeah. That's good enough for him.

And maybe in the morning he'll tell Sammy they can get back on the road, find some other things to hunt. The tentacles aren't hurting anyone.

Getting rid of them doesn't _have_ to be a priority, right?


End file.
